


Live for me (and I'll live for you)

by ChaoticFairy (Amanda908565)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: And Reckless, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Boys In Love, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt, Falling In Love, Friendship, Gokudera Hayato is Also Sad, Hopeful Ending, Idiots in Love, Look they're just two really sad boys, M/M, Miscommunication, Other: See Story Notes, POV Third Person Limited, Sad, Some comfort, Song: Backseat Serenade, Songfic, Suicidal Thoughts, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Yamamoto Takeshi is Sad, some - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22983556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amanda908565/pseuds/ChaoticFairy
Summary: Backseat serenadeLittle hand grenadeOh, aren't you sick of sleeping alone?We're salty on a summer dayKiss the pain awayTo your radioIn which boys are sad, life is rough, mistakes are made, and in the end, maybe living for someone else wouldn't be the worst thing for them.
Relationships: 8059 - Relationship, Gokudera Hayato/Yamamoto Takeshi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	Live for me (and I'll live for you)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all. So, like. 
> 
> This fic was originally inspired by my one friend who was the one who got me into KHR all those years ago. He talked about wanting to write a songfic based off [Backseat Serenade by All Time Low](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yh0voeHA3uc) for 8059 and I, like a _fool_ , never listened to the song. 
> 
> Until a few days ago, when it ended up on my suggested playlist. 
> 
> I was hooked, and then this story came about lmao
> 
> See end notes for any potential trigger/content warnings, please!

_Lazy lover_

_Find a place for me again_

_You felt it once before_

_I know you did_

_I could see it_

* * *

There was a time that they weren’t strangers. A time where they knew the other’s darkest secrets and deepest fears. 

There was a time where Yamamoto was able to smile at Gokudera without the man looking away, or ignoring him completely. There was a time that Gokudera used to get butterflies in his stomach, turn red with a flush and stutter out a curse. 

There was a time that they would sit on the roof of Yamamoto’s house, pointing out different constellations. 

( _That’s Ursa Major,” Gokudera told him one night. “Most people know it as the big dipper, though.”_

_Yamamoto cocked his head to the side, “huh.” He blinked, “hey, doesn’t ursa mean bear in Italian?”_

_Gokudera scoffed, but there was something light about it. It made Yamamoto smile dopily. “Nah,” he started, “_ orsa _would be bear in Italian._ Ursa _is bear in Latin.”_

_The taller of the two shrugged, looking back up at the sky. “Eh, same difference. Why’d they call it the big dipper when it should be the big bear?”_

_“Look at it. It sort of looks like a spoon you would dip into something.”_

_“Then why didn’t they call it the big spoon?”_

_“Takeshi?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Shut up.”_

_“I’m just asking the real questions here!” He laughed, but it was quickly silenced by Gokudera leaning over and dragging him into a kiss._ )

There was a time when they weren’t Gokudera and Yamamoto, but Hayato and Takeshi.

* * *

_Whiskey Princess_

_Drink me under, pull me in_

_You had me at come over boy_

_I need a friend_

_I understand_

* * *

Yamamoto knew that he should talk to someone, but...he didn’t want to talk to his dad. Not yet. His father wouldn’t understand. He briefly entertained the thought of calling Tsuna, since the brunette had been the one to save him from his _accidental_ fall off the roof. 

Just like everything else in his life, Yamamoto brushed it off with a laugh, saying he tripped, or that he changed his mind. It depended on who asked. 

Tsuna had quickly exchanged numbers with Yamamoto, insisting that if he ever needed anything, to please call him. That he’d be there for him. Yamamoto didn’t understand why - he had never done anything for Tsuna. He hadn’t stopped the taunts or the bullying, and he hadn’t even tried to be nice to the guy. It didn’t make sense. 

The boy had created a group chat on the spot, explaining that Yamamoto couldn’t reach Tsuna, then he could try Gokudera. It was likely that they’d be together, especially since the guy wasn’t letting Tsuna out of his sight. 

(Yamamoto observed the transfer student in his peripheral. The guy seemed closed off and rather annoyed at the entire situation. He didn’t blame him. Yamamoto turned to watch the foreigner pull out a cigarette and light it with practiced ease, inhaling the smoke and letting it out after a few seconds. 

Yamamoto wondered if Gokudera would let him have one.

Tsuna was still talking, and he smiled that ever-fake smile, nodding along to whatever the brunette was telling him. He could feel the weight of Gokudera’s gaze on him. He ignored it; pushed it aside like he ignored everything else that was a potential problem.)

He didn’t really think about it. He didn’t like to think too much about things, or else he’d end up spiraling down the rabbit hole. Instead, he was grabbing his phone, opening the group chat, and clicking on the number he hadn’t saved into his contacts.

**hey**

**it’s yamamoto**

**wanna come over for some sushi?**

The response was instant, as if Gokudera had already been holding his phone, waiting for Yamamoto to text him.

**what the actual fuck baseball freak**

**it’s almost two am???**

**yea**

**wanna come over for some sushi?**

He watched the little bubble appear on the screen, only to disappear. A few moments later, it was back. Yamamoto watched, but he wasn’t expecting much. Gokudera would probably curse him out via text, and then Yamamoto would roll over, plug his phone into the charger, and then roll over again to go to sleep. He watched. He waited. 

**TakeSushi, right?**

**yea**

**I’ll be there soon.**

* * *

_Backseat serenade_

_Dizzy hurricane_

_Oh god, I'm sick of sleeping alone_

_You're salty like a summer day_

_Kiss the sweat away_

_To your radio_

* * *

Gokudera was more than Yamamoto expected, but he loved every minute of it. 

The guy didn’t treat him like he was fragile or about to break. Gokudera shouted and swatted and provoked him. Yamamoto appreciated it. It stopped him from just taking a passive approach to his life. It was never to hurt him, he knew, but it was plenty to get his attention. It drew him away from the thoughts that whispered empty promises.

He couldn’t hear the whispers when his senses were drowned completely in what could only be described as a hurricane.

It fit, he decided later. Hurricane Bomb Hayato. He smiled, laughing genuinely when he heard the other teen’s alias for the first time. “It suits you!” He told him with a laugh in front of Tsuna, who immediately leapt to attempt damage control.

“Hah? Oi, what’s that supposed to mean, fucker?!” Gokduera replied, bombs pinched between his knuckles. Yamamoto just smiled in response, because he knew that Gokudera wouldn’t attack him.

The warmth in his eyes was easy to see once he knew what to look for.

Later that night, when Gokudera stopped by at two in the morning and they sat on the roof of TakeSushi, stuffing their faces with the day’s leftovers, Yamamoto repeated himself.

“It suits you,” he told him. “The name,” he clarified.

Gokudera shifted uncomfortably. It’s obvious he didn’t want to talk about his past, even if he had wanted to display it with pride in front of Tsuna. In front of their would-be Boss. 

“Why do you say that?” Gokudera questioned. Like this, he was quieter. More reserved. Like this, Yamamoto could see that he wasn’t the only one who could put on an act in the light of day.

Yamamoto hummed, “well, it’s kinda like,” he made an explosion sound, “but also the _drip drip drip_ of rain but - it’s not rain. It’s not _just_ rain, I mean. Eh, I guess because it’s more like,” he stopped for a moment, placing his meal off to the side before he started to drum on the shingles of the roof, starting soft and slow before building up to a fast and harsh pace. “Y’know? At the end, though...at the end you’re still just you. You’ll always be you, whether or not you like it.” He stared at his friend (because that’s what they were. They were friends. Possibly best friends) and offered a tiny, genuine smile. “I hope one day we like who we are.”

Like this, under the moon, they were Hayato and Takeshi.

* * *

_Backseat serenade_

_Little hand grenade_

_Oh god, I'm sick of sleeping alone_

_You're salty like a summer day_

_Kiss the pain away_

_To your radio_

* * *

Yamamoto watched in slow motion as Gokudera raced to throw himself in front of Tsuna. Like his life meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, as long as the brunette was protected. Yamamoto felt a flash of irritation, but he wasn’t sure who it was directed at. 

He looked up at the man who launched the attack, amber eyes narrowed and calculating. He could try to fight, but...he wasn’t strong enough. Not yet. Gokudera wasn’t in any shape for a fight, and it _irked_ Yamamoto. He wanted to run over to the bomber and start yelling. He wanted to demand an answer as to _why_ he had thought that taking the hit was a better alternative than pulling Tsuna out of the way, or even tackling him to the side! 

Gokudera’s life was precious.

He didn’t start yelling. Instead, he continued to glare up at the assailant, silent. He focused on his breathing. If he acted carelessly, it would be the end for them all. 

It was a relief once backup arrived, even if it was just the start of more issues. Gokudera was quickly brought to a medical clinic and patched up. Yamamoto had made sure that Tsuna was alright before leaving him in the company of Basil and Dino. He would be safer with two trained mafiosi than with just him, after all. Besides, he needed to make sure that Gokudera was okay.

He quickly moved into the hospital room, his face carefully blank. He looked at Gokudera, and Gokudera looked back. Neither spoke for a long time. Finally, Gokudera looked away, scooting over the slightest bit and letting out a hiss of pain. He patted the now open spot for Yamamoto to join him on the bed. 

Yamamoto moved forward, still not saying anything. His hands gently traced over the teen’s body, cataloging any wounds and carefully filing away any reactions. Once he was satisfied, he cupped Gokudera’s cheek in one large palm, turning the other’s head so that they were looking at each other once more.

“If you’re so ready to die for Tsuna, Hayato,” Yamamoto started, staring directly into Gokudera’s eyes and daring him to look away; to ignore him. “Then keep living for me.”

He leaned in and kissed him. 

Gokudera kissed back.

* * *

_You take me over_

_I throw you up against the wall_

_We've seen it all before_

_But this one's different_

_It's deliberate_

* * *

“I thought I told you not to be reckless!” Yamamoto shouted at him. He could not _believe_ this! He had told Gokudera to be careful! He had _told_ him!

“I came back out!” The Storm snapped, fingers twitching in irritation. Yamamoto knew the action; Gokudera wanted a cigarette. 

“Don’t you even think about reaching for a cigarette - you almost didn’t! I saw it, Hayato! I watched you make the decision at the last minute. You were fully prepared to die in there as long as it meant securing the ring!”

Gokudera glared at him. Yamamoto was not impressed. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “Your life means something, Hayato. You can’t keep living if you’re six feet under.” Or in multiple chunks on the walls of our classroom, an unhelpful voice in his mind whispered.

The Storm continued to glare. “What does it matter? I’m expendable. Tenth could easily find a more worthy Storm to replace me if I kick the bucket. At least then, I’d have been useful.” 

Yamamoto sucked in a sharp breath, and before he could think about it, he was crossing the room. Gokudera quickly backed up, unsure of what was happening. Yamamoto saw that Gokudera was confused; perhaps even scared. Understandable, really. He had never seen Yamamoto angry like this. Apathetic, depressed, scared, even cruel at one point, but...he’s never had Yamamoto direct his anger towards him. 

They were nose-to-nose now, with Gokudera’s back pressed into the wall of his bedroom. His dad was out. Yamamoto pretended not to know where, but he knew his old man went to the gambling dens. It wasn’t an issue since it seemed like his dad was at least smart about it.

“What don’t you get?” Yamamoto asked, his voice even and level. The volume was at speaking level, as if he wasn’t angry. His tone, however, was as cold as freezing rain during an early spring. “Why can’t you understand that you are not expendable, Hayato? That no one wants you to die?” He swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“Isn’t this the pot calling the kettle black, or some shit?” Gokudera asked him, and Yamamoto took note of the way his voice wavered. 

“Why can’t you understand that I love you?” Yamamoto whispered, feeling like every muscle and tendon and sinew in his chest was being ripped out and displayed in front of Hayato. His arms slipped around the teen, pulling him close. There were tears in the corners of his eyes. Huh. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried. “Please,” he begged quietly, voice rough. “Please, Hayato, value your life.”

Gokudera was silent, but Yamamoto could hear the occasional sniffle. “Only if you do the same, baseball freak.” 

Yamamoto pulled him even closer.

* * *

_You send me reeling_

_Callin' out to you for more_

_The value of this moment lives in metaphor_

_Yeah, through it all_

* * *

“Stop babying me!” Gokudera shouted at him. Yamamoto reeled back as if he had been hit. He hadn’t been babying him, had he? He was just talking to the guy, trying to comfort him. 

He knew Gokudera had been having trouble with his box weapons, and he just...thought that perhaps he could help take the guy’s mind off of it for a little bit. 

“Don’t you get it? This is important, Takeshi! I can’t just sit back and not do anything like you!”

Yamamoto opened his mouth, then closed it. He opened it once more. Closed again. He didn’t know what to say to that. He stood up, grabbing his sword and left the room without responding. 

Gokudera didn’t call out to him. Didn’t ask him to stay, or apologize, or _anything_. He just let him go.

Maybe Gokudera was just frustrated with the box weapon. Gokudera would find him later, and everything would go back to normal, right?

None of that happened.

* * *

_Backseat serenade_

_Dizzy hurricane_

_Oh god, I'm sick of sleeping alone_

_You're salty like a summer day_

_Kiss the sweat away_

_To your radio_

* * *

The air between them was awkward for a long time after that. Yamamoto closed himself off, focused on the tasks given to him, trained harder than ever. 

He made sure to avoid Gokudera. 

It wasn’t obvious. Not for a while, at least. Simple things. If Gokudera was in one room, then he was in another. He didn’t ask Gokudera for help, and didn’t message the other first. The memes he used to save and send Gokudera developed a heavy layer of dust as they were left unused in his phone’s photo album. He stared at them for a long time one day, before deciding to delete the whole album. He didn’t need it, anyway, and it was just taking up space on his phone.

Gokudera never texted him, anyway.

As life went on, and the years passed, it was the new normal. He and Gokudera didn’t often cross paths, and when they did, they weren’t left alone. Gokudera was busy as Tsuna’s Right-Hand Man, and Yamamoto was typically out in the field. 

It was easy to continue to avoid Gokudera, and had just become a part of his routine. No one questioned if he had to go on this one mission, or why he was training in that area. Why he was busy with paperwork, or how come he was with the Varia. 

There were times when Squalo looked at him - really looked at him - and shook his head. He was told that he was still too young to have his spirit broken. 

Yamamoto gave an empty smile, and told him he’s always been like this.

Squalo shook his head, “there was a time when you were a torrential downpour, Takeshi. Soothing to some, but cutting to others. You were soft and hard and you couldn’t have been like that as the shell you are now.”

“I was never a hurricane.” Yamamoto bit out defensively. 

“No,” Squalo agreed, “but I didn’t say that you were.”

* * *

_Backseat serenade_

_Little hand grenade_

_Oh god, I'm sick of sleeping alone_

_You're salty like a summer day_

_Kiss the pain away_

_To your radio_

* * *

The sky was clear, the sun was out, and there was not a cloud in sight. It was a beautiful day. It felt like the universe was mocking him, but he didn't know why.

Yamamoto could shake the feeling of _something_ that he had woken up with that morning. He looked at the date, but he couldn’t glean anything from that information. His schedule was clear, and his planner was empty. Tsuna wasn’t meeting with anyone - in fact, he, Reborn, and Hibari had returned to Namimori so that Tsuna could visit his mother.

Yet he still felt on edge. 

Yamamoto heard the familiar sizzle and pop of Gokudera’s bombs. For a moment, he watched as the Storm tossed out dynamite to the flying paper planes. He remembered how frustrated Gokudera was that he couldn’t figure out the technique. Yamamoto had laid with the teen on his bed, distracting him and helping him relax by playing some racing game. He couldn't remember the name. 

He had been lost in his thoughts - enough that he didn’t realize the ground disappearing from under him at first.

Yamamoto was floating. Falling? He wasn’t sure. He’s felt this before, though. It was the Ten Year Bazooka.

He blinked a few times, only to sigh as the pink mist evaporated from around him. The man looked around, trying to figure out where he was. Tsuna’s, he assumed since he could hear Lambo crying nearby. He was in a house, but it wasn’t his own. He could hear yelling, too.

Then, someone opened the door. 

“Fucking brat doesn’t understand that the bazooka isn't a damn toy,” Gokudera muttered. 

Yamamoto stared. He tried not to, but he found himself unable to look away from this teenage version of Gokudera. 

Oh. He remembered this day.

He was studying at Tsuna’s, but the guy was called away by Reborn. Something about Vendicare. He now knew it had to do with Mukuro. 

“Oi, you hit your head on the way in?” Gokudera asked him, an amused smile on his face. It was soft. 

Yamamoto felt like a drowning man in the desert suddenly finding an oasis. 

“Hayato,” he croaked, trying (and likely failing) to plaster a grin to his face. (Hayato never liked it when he wore a fake smile).

“Shit, Takeshi, you okay?”

 _No._ “You’re gonna be a great Right-Hand,” Yamamoto said instead. “Just keep working at it!” He laughed, but it was weak. Bitter, even. 

“Takeshi -”

“Ah, I think it’s been about five minutes,” he cut the teen off. “Treat me kindly, yeah?” 

There was a puff of pink. He was back in his own time, swallowing down the lump in his throat and telling himself to breathe. He looked around, trying to see if he was in the same spot. He wasn’t, he moved a bit to the side. Closer to the balcony. 

He remembers this day.

( _Lambo had come running in with I-Pin chasing him. He had tripped, and started crying. He pulled out the bazooka, but aimed incorrectly. It hit him._

_He remembers feeling disoriented at first and his head felt fuzzy. He wandered forwards a few steps (to where he was standing now) and he saw Gokudera. He remembers being in awe over the paper airplane technique, and then reminding the man that he always knew he could do it._

_Gokudera had looked like he had seen a ghost that day._

_Maybe he had._ )

“Takeshi,” a voice called to him for the first time in ages. It made him want to cry. “I...I think we need to talk.”

* * *

_Backseat serenade_

_Dizzy hurricane_

_Oh god, I'm sick of sleeping alone_

_You're salty like a summer day_

_Kiss the sweat away_

_To your radio_

* * *

“Do you remember when we first met?” Gokudera asked him softly, lying on his side and looking at Yamamoto. They faced each other on the mattress, but weren’t touching. There was a gap of space. Yamamoto wanted to reach out and tug the other into his chest. He wanted to hear the other’s heart beat.

“Back in middle school?” Yamamoto responded.

“Yeah. Back in middle school.” Gokudera paused. “When you tried to kill yourself.” 

Yamamoto closed his eyes. His voice was barely a whisper. “What about it?” 

“You know what I first thought?” Gokudera murmured. Yamamoto didn’t say anything. “I thought, ‘wow, I wish I had the balls to do that.’” Another pause. “Then, I thought you were a right bastard. It looked like you had everything going for you. The popularity, the girls, the baseball...even Tsuna offered you friendship so easily. I didn’t understand why you were so unhappy.”

He didn’t know what Gokudera wanted him to say, so he stayed quiet. “Then...then you texted me. I wasn’t going to go originally. I was in bed already, fucking shitty quilt with holes in it wrapped around me like some sort of old, moldy burrito. It was two in the morning. You asked me if I wanted sushi.” He sighed, “I went that night, not because I liked you, or because I wanted to get to know you, but because I hadn’t eaten all day and the offer of sushi made my stomach hurt. Once I got there, I...I don’t know. I found you weren’t so terrible to be around.”

“Oh.” Yamamoto said.

“I hated how fake you were.”

“Oh.”

“I hated that you were such a good actor and I couldn’t do anything to change it.”

“Oh.”

“Until I did. I think.” There was no response. “The night you told me to start living for you, I think you started living for me. I think that’s why you were so afraid of me dying. If I went, then what use was sticking around?” He licked his lips. “I’ve been...I’ve been reckless and impulsive and rude and I’ve never once thought about how it might affect others. I didn’t think anyone really cared. So...live for me, and I'll live for you.” Gokudera took a deep breath, and Yamamoto waited with his own breath caught in his throat. “I’ve loved you for years, Takeshi. I’m sorry for a lot of things. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Yamamoto reached out, wrapping his arms around Gokudera. He was met with no resistance, and the man even pushed forward, burrowing his face in Yamamoto’s ratty t-shirt he kept for pajamas. He breathed out, voice cracking, “I love you, too, Hayato.”

He hoped they could be Hayato and Takeshi again.

* * *

_Backseat serenade_

_Little hand grenade_

_Oh, aren't you sick of sleeping alone?_

_We're salty on a summer day_

_Kiss the pain away_

_To your radio_

**Author's Note:**

> TW/CW: references made to Yamamoto's suicide attempt from the manga. Passing suicidal thoughts. Nothing explicit. No actual attempt written/described in depth. Depression. Possibly unhealthy relationship? Possible dependence/co-dependence?? They're bad at communicating. No non-con/dub-con. No abuse. Just sad bois(TM)
> 
> I hope y'all liked it! This was my first 8059 fic and I'm actually super proud of myself lmao. If you enjoyed, please hit that kudos button or leave a comment! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
